


What do you want?

by Iolanfg



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Facebook: Mystrade is our Division Fic Prompts, Greg is Sweet, M/M, Mycroft Feels, Pre-Relationship, Protective Greg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:08:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27717253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iolanfg/pseuds/Iolanfg
Summary: - And what do you want?Mycroft smiled slightly, snorting in amusement.- World peace. That politicians stop behaving like imbeciles and voters like hooligans, that Sherlock is safe, that my parents are happy...- No. That's what you want for others. What do you want?
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 7
Kudos: 104
Collections: Mystrade is our Division





	What do you want?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Facebook group challenge Mystrade is our division: writers and readers: a fic with the word More  
> Nothing belongs to me.  
> English is not my first language, I regret any mistake.  
> Thank you for reading!

\- You won't answer?  
Mycroft's gaze passed of Greg a the phone, which rang nonstop, and back to Greg, with an apprehensive expression.  
\- No.  
Greg gave him a confused smile, leaving the glass on the coffee table next to him. He settling into the chair by the fire.   
\- It could be important. You never leave a call unanswered.  
Mycroft sighed, squinting and resting his head on the backrest.  
\- Yes. It's always important to answer for whoever calls. It doesn't matter what they want or who it is. It could be a politician asking me to stop the publication in the press of his spoilt teenage son's latest prank, a crisis in some ally country that needs to be stopped, Sherlock demanding access to confidential documents or to free Mrs Hudson from her umpteenth fine, or my mother and her reminders of my obligations as a son and older brother. There's always something important to attend to. I could answer. It's just a phone call. But you know what happens with that? That after one call comes another, and then another. All important ones. All things that cannot be postponed or delegated. There is always someone who wants something more.  
The phone stopped ringing, only to start again after just a few minutes.   
Greg looked at the man in front of him, his tired face and the lines that years of worry and stress had marked on him. Part of the DI was grateful to be one of the few people in the world allowed to see him like this, without his perfect armour, one of the few people who had been given the honour of being able to call him a friend, to enjoy his dry humour, to know his every smile and to be able to see him in his most vulnerable moments. Another part of him could not help but worry about the man he loved in silence and want to protect him from the world.  
He leaned forward, to be closer to the bureaucrat.  
\- And what do you want?  
Mycroft smiled slightly, snorting in amusement.  
\- World peace. That politicians stop behaving like imbeciles and voters like hooligans, that Sherlock is safe, that my parents are happy...  
\- No. That's what you want for others. What do you want?  
Mycroft thought for a few minutes before answering.  
\- I don't know. I suppose... I'm as selfish as the rest, Gregory. I want to spend one day, just one day, without thinking about the country or my family. I want one day for myself. Without crisis or dramas, without worry. Just one day like any normal person. A glass of whisky by the fire, a good conversation with you. Inviting you to dinner, perhaps, without either of us being interrupted before dessert to go back to work. I want someone to ask me what I want, without it being in the middle of a business transaction or an attempt at bribery.  
A warm feeling ran through Greg as he was included in what Mycroft wanted for him. However, his response was drowned out by the sound of his own mobile phone. He took it out of his pocket, sighing at the sight of the screen. He glanced at Mycroft apologetically.  
\- It's John.   
Mycroft motioned for him to answer with a gesture as he fixed his gaze on the fire, the atmosphere cooling a bit as Greg got up and answered the call.  
\- Yes, John? Yes, of course I'm outside the Yard, it's eleven o'clock at night. No, I'm not at home. Have you and Sherlock been arrested in Sussex? What the hell...? Break-in, ok.. One case. Look, I don't know what you want me to... Well, what do you want me to do? It's not my jurisdiction. I can't call my colleagues and tell them that... That Sherlock called Mycroft and he's not answering? And has it occurred to you that perhaps Mycroft is not a wild card who has nothing better to do than sit around waiting for you to call him to save you from the last mess you've gotten yourself into? Yes, John, I know he has influences. That doesn't mean he has to drop everything and run off to .... No, it is not his obligation. Nothing is his obligation, Sherlock is a grown man. Let him behave like one or take the consequences. You'll be released tomorrow morning and you'll probably be given a citation. That's it. And now, if you'll excuse me, I have some important business to attend to. Yes, John, I'll tell my mother when I see her.   
Greg hung up, enjoying Mycroft's puzzled and shocked look.  
\- Gregory, what... Have Sherlock and John been arrested?  
\- Yes. They broke into the house of a supposed art dealer.  
Mycroft made a gesture to get up, to be stopped by the DI.  
\- I have to call and...  
\- No. You don't have to do anything. You're right, after one call comes another. And in between there will never be a "thank you" or a "do you need anything?". Tonight is about you, not them. You are my priority.  
Mycroft opened his mouth and closed it again, baffled.  
\- I... I never...  
The landline rang again, and the DI went to the table to disconnect it. He turned to Mycroft, smiling warmly at him, approaching him.  
\- You've never been anyone's priority? You'll see how easy it is to get used to it. Now, what do you want?  
Mycroft watched him kneel in front of him, with a mixture of emotions running through his face. Overwhelmed, he closed his eyes as the DI gently squeezed his hand.  
\- Greg, I...  
\- It's OK. It's a little difficult. Let's start with something easy. Do you want some more whisky?  
The analyst opened his eyes, nodding. Greg's closeness made him swallow, unable to take his eyes off his face as he stretched out to fill the glass and offer it to him. Greg's eyes stopped on Mycroft's lips as he drank, unable to look away when Mycroft's tongue was licking them  
\- Very good. Is there anything else you want?   
Unable to stop, Mycroft left the glass, and raised his hand, gently caressing the DI's lips as his eyes dug into his own.  
\- Perhaps...  
Greg held the hand of the older Holmes, approaching him out to him until his lips joined in a sweet, quiet kiss at first, hungry and desperate later.  
The need for oxygen finally drove them apart, smiling and eyes shining, Greg leaned his forehead against his partner's.  
\- I'm glad you're asking for what you want.  
\- What if I want more of it? Much more. I've wanted it for a long time, and I'll probably want it forever.  
\- Good. Because I have so much more to give you. And I've also wanted it for so long that I don't even remember when I started wanting it.  
Unable to say anything, Mycroft kissed him again.   
Forgotten on the table, the phones continued to ring.


End file.
